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ADVERTISEMENT. 

- - 

The  following  Sermon  was  delivered  in  the 
antumn  of  ’52,  and  was  published  at  the  time 
in  one  of  the  Periodicals  of  the  Church.  Its 

typography,  however,  was  so  inaccurately  and 

unsatisfactorily  executed,  that  the  author  deter¬ 
mined  to  avail  himself  of  the  first  favorable 
opportunity  to  present  it  to  the  public  in  a 

more  readable  and  acceptable  shape ;  and  he 
therefore  now  commits  it  to  the  press,  in  the 

belief  that  in  so  doing,  he  will  be  performing 
a  not  ungrateful  service  to  the  surviving  rela¬ 
tives  of  the  deceased;  and,  at  the  same  time, 
calling  the  attention  of  the  community  to  an 
interesting  psychological  phenomenon,  and  to  a 
most  beautiful  illustration  of  the  power  of  our 
blessed  faith  to  sustain,  in  their  last  periods,  those 
even  to  whose  young  and  fervid  imaginations 
the  world  is  all  brightness  and  beauty. 


New-York ,  April  3d,  1858. 


cnr 


SERMON. 


-+■ 


“  Our  Friend  Lazarus  Sleepeth.  ” 

Gospel  of  St.  John ,  c.  xi,  v.  11. 


rJL 


The  occasion  on  which  these  words  were 
uttered,  is  best  explained  by  the  simple  and 
beautiful  language  of  the  preceding  context. 
“  Now  a  certain  man  was  sick,  named  Laza¬ 
rus,  of  Bethany.  It  was  that  Mary  who 
anointed  the  Lord  with  ointment,  and  wiped 
his  feet  with  her  hair,  whose  brother  Lazarus 
was  sick.  Therefore  his  sisters  sent  unto  him , 
saying ,  Lord  behold,  he  whom  thou  lovest  is 
sick.  When  Jesus  heard  that,  he  said ,  this 
sickness  is  not  unto  death,  but  for  the  glory 
of  God,  that  the  Son  of  God  might  be  glo¬ 
rified  thereby.  Now,  Jesus  loved  Martha 
and  her  sister,  and  Lazarus.  When  he  had 


6 


heard ,  therefore,  that  he  was  side,  he  abode 
two  days  still  in  the  same  place  where  he  was. 
Then  after  that,  saith  he  to  his  disciples, 
let  us  go  into  Judea  again.  His  disciples 
say  unto  him :  Master,  the  Jews  of  late 
sought  to  stone  thee,  and  goest  thou  thither 
again  ?  Jesus  answered,  are  there  not  twelve 
hours  in  the  day  ?  if  any  man  walk  in 
the  day,  he  stumbleth  not,  because  he  seeth 
the  light  of  this  world;  but  if  a  man 
walk  in  the  night,  he  stumbleth,  because 
there  is  no  light  in  him.  These  things, 
said  he ;  and  after  that  he  saith,  our  friend 
Lazarus  sleepeth,  but  I  go  that  I  may 
awake  him  out  of  sleep.” 

I.  The  first  remark  which  I  would  make 
upon  these  beautiful  words  is,  that  there 
is  nothing  in  the  genius  of  Christianity 
which  at  all  militates  against  the  cultiva¬ 
tion  of  particular  and  private  friendship  ; 
and  I  make  this  remark,  because  it  has 
been  objected  to  Christianity — that  it  is 
unfavorable  to  the  cultivation  of  these  pe¬ 
culiar  and  personal  regards  to  which  the 
term  friendship  has  come  to  be  appro- 


7 


priated,  inasmuch  as,  though  it  inculcates 
general  benevolence  and  universal  philan¬ 
thropy ,  yet  it  lays  no  stress  upon  friend¬ 
ship  in  its  specific  and  distinctive  charac¬ 
ter.  But  it  should  "be  considered  that  par¬ 
ticular  and  private  friendship  is  not  like 
justice  and  charity — a  duty  of  imperative 
and  universal  obligation.  All  men  are  not 
capable  of  the  delicacy  of  such  a  senti¬ 
ment  ;  and  those  who  are  capable  of  it, 
may  be  deprived,  by  uncontrollable  circum¬ 
stances,  of  its  peculiar  advantage  and  plea¬ 
sures  ;  and  it  is  just  in  proportion  as  we 
cultivate  the  benevolent  and  unselfish  tem¬ 
per  to  which  Christianity  would  form  us, 
that  we  become  really  susceptible  of  a 
sentiment  so  exalted  and  pure. 

But  the  example^6ur  Lord  seems  to  show 
us,  that  there  is  nothing  in  the  spirit  of  his 
religion  which  is  at  variance  with  the  sen¬ 
timent  of  friendship ;  for  St.  John  is  called, 
you  know,  “  the  disciple  whom  Jesus  loved? 
He  is  said  to  have  leaned  upon  his  breast 
when  at  supper,  and  to  have  received  from 
him  whatever  are  the  marks  of  a  peculiar 


df 


confidence  and  affection.  In  the  text  he 
speaks  of  Lazarus  under  the  endearing  epi¬ 
thet  of  “  our  friend and  the  evangelist 
beautifully  says,  as  we  have  just  seen,  “  Jesus 
loved  Martha  and  her  sister ,  and  Lazarus 
and  described  him  as  being  wont  to  seek 
in  the  village  mansion  of  those  loved  and 
cherished  friends,  an  asylum  from  the  toils 
and  solicitudes  of  his  ordinary  ministrations. 

And  what  a  beautiful  example  of  the  ten- 
derest  and  most  generous  friendship  have 
we  not,  in  his  intercourse  with  his  disci¬ 
ples  !  How  kind  and  affectionate  and  fami¬ 
liar  was  his  converse  with  them  !  How  for¬ 
getful,  was  he  not,  of  himself,  and  how  deep 
and  touching  a  concern  did  he  not  manifest 
for  them !  “  Ye  now  have  sorrow ”  said  he  to 
them  upon  the  eve  of  his  passion — “  Ye  now 
have  sorrow ,  but  I  will  see  you  again ,  and  your 
hearts  shall  rejoice ,  and  your  joy  no  man 
taketh  from  you.”  And  even  as  he  was  sus¬ 
pended  upon  the  cross ,  when  he  saw  his 
mother  and  the  disciple  standing  by  whom  he 
loved ,  he  saith  to  his  mother ,  “  Woman,  behold 
thy  son.  Then  saith  he  to  the  disciple ,  Be- 


9 


hold  thy  mother  •  and  from  that  time  that 
disciple  took  her  to  his  own  home.” 

We  have  a  "beautiful  exemplification,  let 
me  add,  of  the  truest  friendship,  in  the 
case  of  those  primitive  believers,  of  whom 
it  is  said  that  they  were  of  “  one  heart  and 
of  one  soul?  And  it  is  plain  from  these 
considerations,  therefore,  that  so  far  is  it  from 
being  true  that  Christianity  lays  no  stress  upon 
the  sentiment  of  friendship,  that  the  very  con¬ 
verse  is  the  fact ;  and  were  Christians  more 
thoroughly  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  their 
religion,  they  could  not  but  be  bound  together 
by  the  ties  of  an  intimate,  and  self-sacrificing, 
and  all -enduring  friendship. 

II.  The  next  reflection  suggested  by  the 
passage  before  us  is,  that  the  death  of  the 
righteous  is  wont  to  be  represented  in  Holy 
Scriptures  as  a  sleep — a  soft  and  gentle  slum¬ 
ber.  This  beautiful  form  of  speech  occurs 
frequently  in  the  New  Testament,  “  Our 
friend  Lazarus  sleepeth,”  says  our  Saviour. 
Speaking  of  the  first  martyr,  St.  Stephen,  it  is 
said,  that  “  he  fell  asleep and  says  St.  Paul  the 
apostle,  “  I  would  not  have  you  ignorant ,  breth- 


10 


ren,  concerning  them  that  are  asleep  ;  for  if  we 
believe  that  Jesus  died  and  rose  again ,  even 
so  them  also  that  sleep  in  Jesus  will  God  bring 
with  him.”  In  sleep  our  bodies  are  inert  and 
motionless,  our  senses  steeped  in  oblivion,  and 
we  are  utterly  unconscious  of  what  is  passing 
around  us,  and,  therefore,  death  is  often  rep¬ 
resented  by  the  ancients  under  the  similitude 
of  sleep  ;  but  it  is  remarkable,  that  wherever 
this  figure  is  employed  outside  the  sacred  re¬ 
cords,  it  is  invested  with  associations  which 
make  an  uncertain  and  ineffectual  response  to 
the  soul’s  yearnings  after  immortality.  The 
philosophers  speculated ,  indeed,  upon  the  im¬ 
mortality  of  man ;  and  we  may  imagine  one  of 
them  to  have  reasoned  about  it  in  this  wise: 
“The  horrid  sentiment,  that  man  is  but  a 
higher  species  of  organized  existence,  is  refuted 
by  every  operation  of  my  mind,  and  by  every 
instinct  of  my  heart ;  for  can  it  be  that  man, 
whom  the  gods  have  endowed  with  such  noble 
capacities,  and  powers,  and  affections — man, 
who,  while  the  materialism  that  surrounds  him 
is  wholly  inert  and  mindless,  is  a  thinking,  ac¬ 
tive,  and  in  some  sense,  all-pervading  intelli- 


gence; — man,  who  alone  of  all  the  animal 
tribes,  is  capable  of  reflecting  on  the  various 
objects  which  address  themselves  to  his 
senses, — of  analysing,  combining,  and  arrang¬ 
ing  his  thoughts  and  emotions, — of  exploring 
the  wonders  of  the  earth  and  of  the  heavens, — 
of  retiring  into  the  abysses  of  the  past,  and  of 
penetrating  the  labyrinths  of  the  future; — 
man,  for  whom  such  magnificent  arrangements 
have  been  made  in  nature  and  society,  and 
who,  with  all  the  intensity  of  his  sentimental 
heart,  pants  after  a  brighter,  nobler,  happier, 
endless  life; — can  it  be  that  he  is  to  flutter 
through  his  little  span  of  being,  and  then  to  sink 
down  into  the  gulf  of  a  lifeless  and  a  hopeless 
nothingness?”  And  yet,  reason  as  they  might 
upon  this  subject,  brethren,  the  profoundest  sa¬ 
ges  of  antiquity  viewed  the  immortality  of  the 
soul  as  a  consummation  to  be  hoped  for  rather 
than  a  truth  to  be  believed — as  a  problem  to 
be  solved,  rather  than  a  fact  demonstrated 
and  certain — as  an  enchanting  vision  of  the 
imagination,  rather  than  as  a  glorious  reality , 
shedding  light  upon  the  understanding  and  im¬ 
parting  joy  to  the  heart. 


J 


12 


Not  so  the  Evangel ;  for,  as  said  our 
Heavenly  Teacher,  as  he  stood  by  the 
grave  of  him  of  Bethany,  our  friend  La¬ 
zarus  sleepeth,  but  I  go  that  I  may  awake 
him  out  of  sleep ;  so  the  glorious  hour  is 
speeding  towards  us  when  all  the  dead  in 
Christ  shall  awake  to  sleep  no  more — shall 
arise  to  a  state  of  glory  and  of  bliss 
which  mortal  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  mor¬ 
tal  ear  heard,  nor  mortal  heart  imagined. 
And  even  now  can  we  discern  the  first 
radiance  of  that  resurrection  morning,  when 
the  Lord  himself  shall  descend  from  Hea¬ 
ven  with  the  voice  of  the  Archangel  and 
the  trump  of  God,  and  the  dead  in  Chr  ist  shall 
rise  first.  But  the  words  before  us  are 
susceptible  moreover  of  a  touching  local  ap¬ 
plication.  To  us  of  the  ministry,  indeed, 
they  have  a  richness  and  a  depth  of  mean¬ 
ing  which  can  be  appreciated  by  those 
only,  a  part  of  whose  sacred  office  it  is  to 
bury  the  dead  in  Christ.  How  many 
images  throng  around  me  of  the  departed 
saints  once  living  in  the  several  fields  of 
labor,  where,  in  the  Providence  of  God,  it 


rp) 


13 

lias  been  my  appointment  to  minister ! 
Now  one  rises  to  my  view  who  was  wont 
to  welcome  me  to  bis  hospitable  mansion, 
not  merely  in  obedience  to  a  customary 
form  of  civility,  but  out  of  no  common 
respect  and  reverence  to  the  Institutions 
of  Christ,  and  because  he  esteemed  the 
pastors^of^  his  flock  very  highly  in  love 
for  h^<fjvork’s  sake,  and  whom,  though 
for  many  long  years  the  wild  flower  has 
bloomed  upon  his  grave,  I  love  to  cherish 
with  a  frequent  and  a  grateful  remem¬ 
brance.  What  a  halo  of  glory  surrounded 
that  old  man’s  dying  couch — how  he  went 
into  the  world  unknown,  leaning  upon  his 
beloved — staying  himself  upon  the  Lord, 
the  Everlasting  God — possessed  of  a  peace 
which  passeth  all  understanding,  and  sus¬ 
tained  by  that  glorious  Hope  which  is  as 
an  anchor  of  the  soul,  both  sure  and  steadfast. 
“  Marie  the  perfect  man ,  and  behold  the  up¬ 
right — -for  the  end  of  that  man  is  peace? 
This  is  one  of  the  pictures  which  memory, 
not  imagination,  brings  before  me. 

And  then  I  go  back  in  the  long  past  to 


14 


the  parting  hour  of  another  of  Christ’s 
blessed  saints,  and  well  remember  what  a 
lively  interest  she  took  in  the  Master’s  work  ; 
the  faithful  friend,  the  affectionate  sister, 
the  intelligent  and  cheerful  companion, — 
who,  wherever  she  went,  gave  a  zest  to 
conversation,  and  diffused  an  innocent  spright¬ 
liness  over  the  domestic  and  social  circle. 
And  then  I  think  of  another  and  another, 
of  whom,  or  of  such  as  them,  it  has  been 
so  beautifully  said  :  u  The  vision  is  loveliest 
at  its  vanishing  away,  and  we  perceive 
not,  perhaps,  till  we  see  the  parting  wing, 
that  an  angel  has  been  with  us.” 

And  now  I  would  bestow  a  few  sweet 
memories  upon  another  dear  sister  in  Christ, 
that  most  interesting  young  maiden,  with 
whom  we  were  wont  to  take  sweet  coun¬ 
sel,  and  come  up  to  this  house  of  God 
in  company ;  for  she  too  has  fallen  asleep  in 
Jesus — her  place  before  us  is  empty,  and 
she  lives  in  the  blessed  remembrance  of 
those  whom  she  has  left  behind  hei\  And 
remember,  brethren,  that  it  is  for  no  pur¬ 
pose  of  pompous  and  vain  declamation  that 


15 


I  have  selected  this  as  the  topic  of  to¬ 
day’s  discourse.  I  have  chosen  it  because 
it  will  prove,  I  trust,  eminently  profitable 
and  interesting  to  the  younger  members  of 
Christ’s  flock  among  us. 

There  is  a  peculiarity  about  it,  more¬ 
over,  in  a  psychological  point  of  view, 
* —  _ — - 

which  might  afford  matter  for  profitable 
and  entertaining  contemplation  to  the  phi¬ 
losopher  not  less  than  to  the  Christian. 

In  a  letter,  which  I  recently  received 
from  a  well-known  citizen*  of  this  place,  the 
friend  and  guardian  of  our  departed  young 
sister,  he  said :  “  In  death  she  was  even  more 
lovely  than  in  life.  All  the  blessings  which 
Christ  gives  to  those  who  trust  in  him,  were 
given  to  her  in  overflowing  fullness.  Oh,  how 
sweetly  and  triumphantly  her  spirit  passed 
away !”  And  again  he  says  :  “  It  was  not 

the  fatigue  of  travel  that  did  her  harm. 
It  was  the  intensity  of  her  emotions  at  the 
novelty,  sublimity,  magnificence  and  beauty 
of  the  scenery  and  objects  she  witnessed 
and  visited.”  I  saw  the  effect,  and  did  all 
that  was  in  my  power  to  restrain  her;  but 


* 


Henry  G.  Smith,  of  the  Memphis  Bar. 


W" 


10 


# 


d 


I  could  not  withhold  her  from  Niagara,  the 
St.  Lawrence,  Lake  Champlain,  and  the  ever- 
shifting  magnificence,  beauty,  freshness  and 
gentleness  of  the  mountains,  hills  and  val¬ 
leys  of  New  England.  Ller  susceptibility  to 
impressions  of  this  kind  was  of  wonderful 
quickness  and  intensity.  Her  emotions  were 
constantly  struggling,  and  overcoming  her, 
for  utterance — words  failed  her,  and  at  length 
and  often  she  would  sink  back  in  utter  and 
sad  despair,  that  she  could  not  find  any 
words  to  tell  her  emotions.  She  had  al¬ 
ways  been  dissatisfied,  she  told  me,  with 
the  descriptions  she  had  read  in  books  of 
things  sublime  and  beautiful,  and  wondered 
at  the  meagreness  of  the  language  of  the 
writers,  and  ascribed  it  to  the  meagreness 
of  their  vocabulary ;  but  that  now  she  found 
no  words  within  her  command  to  describe 
such  things,  and  to  express  the  feelings  they 
gave  rise  to  in  her  bosom.  The  effort 
to  find  words  was  a  fatigue  and  an  afilic- 
tion.  Those  which  were  common  had  be¬ 
come  threadbare  and  disagreeable,  and  she 
avoided  using  them.  One  only  remained 


df 


17 


to  her,  and  that  she  could  not  help  using — 

‘  Beautiful,  beautiful !’  One  day  she  repeated 
me  some  lines,  the  phraseology  and  imagery 
of  which  have  gone  out  of  my  memory  ;  but 
the  idea  was  that  the  beauty  and  the  love¬ 
liness  were  so  intense  that  they  had  become 
painful.  The  chief  elements  of  her  soul 
were  Love  and  Beauty.  She  loved  every¬ 
body,  and  in  everything  there  was  beauty 
to  her  heart.  No  coarse  feeling  was  in 
her,  and  it  was  hard  for  her  to  discover 
any  such  in  anybody  else.  She  loved  her 
friends  and  the  attendant  clergymen,  (‘  Holy 
ministers  of  God,’  was  her  phrase  when 
speaking  of  them,)  and  physicians,  and  every 
member  of  the  family  about  her,  and  was 
thankful  for  each  attentive  act  with  a 
grace  and  affection  perfectly  celestial.  The 
prayers  and  the  hymns,  and  the  Communion 
Service,  and  the  voices  of  those  who  joined, 
were  sweetly  beautiful  to  her. 

“  But  I  cannot  tell  you  of  all  these  things  : 
they  cannot  be  told ;  the  sweet  words  to 
all  about  her,  and  the  affectionate  messages 
to  her  absent  friends  and  relatives,  and 


18 


the  radiant  looks  which  from  time  to  time 
illuminated  her  face,  as  a  kind  word  or 
act,  or  a  pleasant  thought  would  occur  to 
her.  The  window  of  the  chamber  where 
she  lay  opens  to  the  West,  and  before  it 
stretches  out  a  landscape  of  exceeding 
beauty — the  blue  hills  in  the  distance,  and 
before  and  around  a  little  vale  of  green 
fields  and  fruits,  and  a  silver  band  of  spark¬ 
ling  and  rippling  waters.  Her  eye  resting 
upon  it  as  she  was  lying  in  bed,  the  cur¬ 
tain  being  lifted  from  the  window,  she 
said :  ‘  0,  beautiful,  beautiful — here  let  me 

die  !’  and,  alas !  in  fourteen  days  from  that 
time,  in  the  same  chamber,  and  with  the 
same  scene  expanding  before  her  in  all  its 
rich  and  gentle  loveliness,  the  chill  hand 
of  Death  fell  npon  her,  and  her  eyes  closed, 
never  again  to  open  upon  the  beautiful  and 
lovely  of  earth.” 

Speaking  of  a  gallery  of  paintings  to  which 
he  had  taken  her,  my  friend  goes  on  to 
say;  “Some  of  them  are  fine  specimens  of 
the  art,  many  of  them  very  interesting  in 
their  subject,  and  several  of  them  of  very 


19 


brilliant  and  impressive  coloring.  It  was 
the  first  gallery  of  the  kind  she  had  ever 
seen.  I  observed  when  she  went  into  the 
room,  and  her  eye  glanced  round  the  wall, 
her  very  soul  seemed  swept  away  with  an 
overwhelming  flood  of  intense  emotion.  She 
could  scarcely  stand  while  I  handed  her  a 
chair.  I  told  her  to  keep  seated — not  to 
walk  about — to  notice  those  paintings  only 
that  were  near  and  before  her,  and  that 
we  would  again  visit  the  place.  I  then 
left  her  for  an  hour  or  more.  When  I  re¬ 
turned,  she  shewed  she  was  much  over¬ 
come.  She  had  doubtless  been  unable  to 
restrain  herself.  The  excitement  was  too 
great.  Her  nervous  system  gave  way  be¬ 
fore  it.  We  took  her  back  to  my  father’s — 
she  went  to  bed,  and  never  again  left  it 
until  the  morning  when  carried  from  the 
chamber  of  death.  Her  bodily  disease  was 
of  the  nervous  kind,  which  was  aggrava¬ 
ted — perhaps  made  fatal — by  the  intensity 
of  her  emotions  of  wonder  and  delight.  I 
guarded  much  against  it,  endeavored  much 
to  withhold  her,  and  did  so  to  a  great  ex- 


20 


tent;  but  not  enough,  I  fear,  to  prevent 
the  fatal  result.  I  may  be  wrong,  perhaps 
I  worshiped  the  child  too  blindly  to  be 
able  to  judge  accurately;  but  I  surely  am 
of  the  opinion  that  she  has  fallen  a  victim 
to  a  sensibility  too  intense  and  delicate  to  the 
beautiful ,  the  lovely ,  and  the  magnificent. 
Her  sense  of  beauty  ivas  a  disease.  It 
clothed  all  her  thoughts  in  her  sickness — 
covered  everything  she  saw  or  heard  that  was 
kind  and  attentive ,  and  its  language  was 
constantly  flowing  from  her  lips.  And  surely 
the  Communion  Service,  as  administered  to 
her  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Cox,  as  the  dim  twi¬ 
light  of  evening  was  fading  out  of  the  West 
into  the  dark  night,  was  holy,  heavenly, 
beautiful,  radiant  of  peace,  happiness,  and 
as  was  never  religious  office  before,  in  all 
that  I  have  seen.  She  seemed  to  have  in 
her  memory  almost  the  whole  service,  the 
responses  of  which  she  repeated  without 
the  book ;  and  her  thin,  silver  voice  ming¬ 
ling  with  the  others  present,  seemed  like 
the  string  of  an  angel’s  harp  just  tuned 
for  the  presence  of  God. 


21 


“  O,  I  despair  of  being  able  to  write  so¬ 
berly  of  these  things.  The  soul  of  the 
dear  child  is  in  my  heart ;  would  to  God 
it  could  forever  stay  there,  and  the  hard 
earthly  things  never  more  obtain  posses¬ 
sion  of  it.  She  comprehended  clearly  the 
Communion  Service,  and  accompanied  it  all 
through.  When  the  minister  handed  her 
the  cup,  she  clasped  it  with  her  hand  and 
put  it  to  her  lips ;  and  as  he  pronounced 
the  words  ‘and  be  thankful,’  she  held  his 
hand  with  the  cup,  and  turned  upon  him 
her  full  and  gleaming  eyes,  and  said  in  a 
tone  of  most  clear  and  fervent  plaintiveness : 
‘  I  am  thankful.’  One  hears  words  so  spo¬ 
ken  but  once  in  his  life,  and  that  one 
time  can  never  be  forgotten.  She  never 
omitted  her  prayers  at  night,  sick  or  well, 
at  home  or  abroad,  alone  or  in  a  crowd. 
I  do  not  think  she  could  have  slept  had 
she  omitted  them.  In  her  sickness,  and 
during  the  last  hours,  she  loved  to  hear 
prayers  and  hymns,  and  passages  of  scrip¬ 
ture,  and  would  suggest  those  of  most  ap¬ 
propriate  character.  Mr.  Cox  asked  her  at 


22 


one  time  if  she  would  like  to  hear  him 
read  a  hymn.  She  replied  in  the  affirma¬ 
tive.  He  asked  her  if  there  was  any  one 
she  wished  particularly  to  hear.  She  strug¬ 
gled  a  few  moments  to  collect  her  memo¬ 
ry,  and  seemed  to  be  unable  to  recall  the 
one  she  wanted ;  she  said,  ‘ 1  can’t  re¬ 
member  the  first  line — but  trials  will  befall , 
or  something  like  that.’  The  minister  at 
once  turned  to  the  183d  hymn,  and  read 
it  to  her.  When  he  read  the  lines, 

But  with  humble  faith  to  see, 

Love  inscribed  upon  them  all. 

‘  Yes,’  she  said,  opening  her  full  eyes,  and 
looking  up,  ‘Yes,  Love  inscribed  upon 
them  all !’ 

“  But  I  must  stop,”  adds  my  stricken  friend. 
“A  volume  would  scarce  contain  the  thou¬ 
sand  touching  little  incidents  of  her  sick¬ 
ness.  All  was  gentleness,  and  faith,  and 
love.  She  had  no  petulance  nor  cross 
words — not  one.  She  was  full  of  thank¬ 
fulness  to  all  about  her.” 


I  have  also  received  from  the  Kev.  Mr. 
Benedict,  one  of  the  clergymen  who  at- 


23 


tended  her  in  her  last  periods,  a  letter, 
in  which  he  writes  as  follows :  “  I  was 

not  called  to  her  till  yesterday  morning. 
It  was  thought  she  was  dying.  It  requir¬ 
ed  but  little  examination  to  find  that  re¬ 
ligion  had  been  with  her  a  living  princi¬ 
ple,  and  was  then  her  joy  and  support. 
She  frankly  owned  her  desire  to  live  if 
it  were  consistent  with  God’s  will,  but  her 
desire  and  prayer  was  to  be  willing  to  die. 
Once,  a  fear  of  the  cold,  dark  grave  pass¬ 
ed  over,  but  it  did  not  long  continue  to 
disturb  her.  As  the  Service  of  the  Holy 
Communion  began,  she  seemed  to  collect 
herself  and  followed  it  through,  I  think 
understanding  every  word.  Her  voice  was 
clear  and  fervent  in  all  the  responses  in 
the  Confession,  the  Trisaghln,  and  the  Gloria 
in  Excelsis.  She  breathed  "'Tier  last  so  gent¬ 
ly  and  so  quietly,  that  we  hardly  knew 
when  the  breath  ceased.  We  were  at  the 
very  moment,  we  think,  commending  her 
soul  to  the  Sacred  Trinity  in  the  closing 
words  of  Bishop  Andrews’s  Liturgy.  Such 
a  death  as  hers,”  he  concludes,  “  such  a  death 


24 


as  hers,  leaves  all  her  friends  more  of  com¬ 
fort  than  of  sorrow;  and  though  they  can¬ 
not  but  be  desolate  for  awhile,  yet  hers  was 
such  a  clear,  calm,  joyous  trust  in  Jesus, 
and  such  a  lovely  example  of  the  Chris¬ 
tian  character,  that  they  will  learn,  I  trust, 
to  bless  God  for  His  dealing  with  them, 
and  submit  to  what  is  truly  her  great  gain. 
The  many  interesting  incidents  of  her  sick¬ 
ness  and  death,  all  indicated  one  thing — 
her  preparation  for,  and  readiness  for,  her 
Lord’s  coming.” 

This  affecting  and  beautiful  scene,  my  breth¬ 
ren,  is  eminently  suggestive  of  highly  profita¬ 
ble  and  profoundly  interesting  thought.  Let 
us  dwell  for  a  moment  upon  the  reflections 
which  it  gives  rise  to.  "We  may  learn,  then, 
from  this  most  instructive  and  touching  story, 
the  inestimable  value  of  systematic  and 
earnest  instruction  in  the  principles  of  the 
Gospel  in  the  Church.  There  are  those 
here  to-day  who  well  remember,  as  one  of 
the  aboriginal  members  of  this  parish,  the 
late  Durant  Hatch,  and  who  will  bear  me  wit¬ 
ness  when  I  say,  that  he  was  equally  remark- 


25 


able  for  being  an  honest  man ,  a  polished  gen¬ 
tleman,  a  sincere  Christian,  and  an  enlightened 
and  decided  Churchman.  That  most  estima¬ 
ble  person  was  the  grandfather  of  the  lamen¬ 
ted  young  lady,  whose  premature  depar¬ 
ture  has  supplied  me  with  the  lesson  of 
to-day ;  and  when  I  say  this,  I  say  all 
that  is  necessary  to  explain  the  manner  of 
her  life  and  the  manner  of  her  death.  In 
other  words,  the  family  of  Durant  Hatch 
was  a  type  of  many  a  family  in  our  com¬ 
munion — whether  in  our  Fatherland  or  in 
these  United  States  of  America ;  families, 
that  is  to  say,  who,  instead  of  presenting 
the  not  unusual  spectacle  of  a  particolored 
and  divided  household,  where  some  forward 
Miss  or  beardless  Master  is  not  slo#  to 
enter  into  a  theological  dispute  with  the 
mother  that  bore  him,  or  with  that  ven¬ 
erable  person,  “  the  old  man  or  the  Gov¬ 
ernor  ” — as  behind  his  back  they  call  him — 
present  to  the  world  the  symmetrical  and 
beautiful  aspect  of  a  united  and  well-or¬ 
dered,  and  compact,  and  Christian  family. 
Such  families,  for  example,  are  always  to 


be  seen  in  their  proper  places  in  the  par¬ 
ish  Church,  devoutly  joining  in  the  offices 
of  our  venerable  ritual,  with  meek  heart 
and  due  reverence,  hearing  and  receiving 
God’s  Word,  and  who,  though  not  unreasona¬ 
bly  solicitous  to  press  their  creed  upon 
those  of  different  sentiments,  nor  hazarding 
the  safety  and  the  dignity  of  their  own 
principle  by  exposing  it-  to  the  unreason¬ 
ing  cavils  and  quaint  railleries  of  men  of 
heterodox  minds ;  yet,  in  their  adherence 
to  the  principles  of  the  Bible,  as  attested 
by  the  Creeds  and  the  Catechism,  and  the 
Articles,  and  the  Homilies,  and  the  Collects, 
and  the  Canticles,  turn  neither  to  the  right 
hand  nor  to  the  left,  but  ever  keep  on  in 
these  good  old  trodden  paths  of  the 
Apostles  and  Prophets,  and  exhibiting^  in 
all  their  domestic  and  social  relations  and 
intercourses,  the  restraining,  regulating,  re¬ 
fining,  elevating  principles  of  the  Gospel 
in  the  Church.  Need  I  tell  you,  breth¬ 
ren,  that  there  is  a  real  respectability  in 
such  a  household  which  must  commend  it¬ 
self  to  every  person  of  solid  judgment  and 


27 


laJ' 


of  chastened  feelings  ?  and  whenever  any 
member  of  such  a  family  is  gathered  to 
his  fathers,  we  are  prepared  to  hear  that 
he  died  “  in  the  confidence  of  a  certain 
faith ,  and  in  the  comfort  of  a  reasonable , 
religious  and  holy  hope.'1'1  Some  of  you, 
perhaps,  may  be  able  to  appreciate  the  force 
of  these  observations,  and  some  of  you  may 
not ;  but  mark  well  my  words,  brethren : 
never  in  your  lives  have  you  listened  to  a 
saying,  whether  from  the  pulpit  or  else¬ 
where,  which  was  more  worthy  of  your 
profound  consideration  and  good  heed,  as 
men,  as  citizens,  and  as  intelligent  and 
moral  beings. 


And  now  I  would  say  to  you,  my  younger 
brethren  in  especial,  prepare  to  stand  be¬ 
fore  ^the  judgment-seat  of  Christ.  The  Gos¬ 
pel’s  truth  is  attested  by  your  consciences. 
You  feel  that  you  have  erred  and  stray¬ 
ed  from  right  ways.  You  feel  that  God 
is  coming  to  judge  the  world  in  righteous¬ 
ness.  You  feel  that  it  is  they  only  who 
do  his  commandments,  who  have  a  right  to 
the  tree  of  life,  and  who  enter  in  through  the 


gates  into  the  City.  Prepare,  then,  I  say, 
prepare ;  be  ready,  be  ready.  “  For  have 
you  not  heard  how  such  an  one  went  to 
his  bed  a  healthy  and  prosperous  man,  on 
whose  countenance  the  shadow  of  death 
was  dark  in  the  morning  ?  How  the  mar¬ 
riage  feast  was  spread  in  such  a  house, 
and  the  young  bride  passed  to  her  cham¬ 
ber,  and  knew  not  that  the  mirth  of  her 
friends  would  soon  be  changed  into  sor¬ 
row  over  her  grave  ?  Of  such  a  neighbor 
who  went  forth  to  the  gates  of  the  City, 
and  the  crowd  trod  on  him  that  he  died? 
Of  these  men  slain  by  robbers ;  of  those 
swallowed  up  by  the  sea;  of  some  that 
fell  victims  to  the  pestilence  that  walketh 
in  darkness ;  and  of  others  whom  a  fly,  a 
grapestone,  a  flint  in  the  path,  a  tile  from 
the  house  top,  took  away  in  the  morning 
of  their  lives,  and  the  heat  of  their  blood 
and  their  transgressions,  without  a  day,  an 
hour,  a  mofhent,  for  reflection  or  for  pray¬ 
er?”*  Prepare,  then,  I  say,  prepare ;  be 
ready,  be  ready . 


*  Jeremy  Taylor. 


29 


When  Popilius,  by  order  of  the  Roman 
Senate,  required  Antiochus  to  withdraw 
his  army  from  the  king  of  Egypt,  and  he 
desired  time  to  deliberate  about  the  mat¬ 
ter,  the  Roman  drew  a  circle  with  his 
wand  about  him,  and  said,  “  Give  an  an¬ 
swer  before  you  move.”*  And  thus,  says 
an  old  writer,  “  Eternity,  whose  proper  em¬ 
blem  is  a  circle,  a  figure  without  end, 
sets  before  us  life  and  death,  even  that 
life  or  death  which  sooner  or  later  awaits 
us  all.”  Watch,  therefore,  for  ye  know 
not  when  the  Master  of  the  house  cometh, 
at  even  or  at  midnight,  or  at  cock  crow¬ 
ing  or  in  the  morning,  lest  coming  sud¬ 
denly  he  find  you  sleeping. 

Finally,  how  inestimable  is  that  holy 
faith  which  inspires  us  with  the  exalted 
andblessed  hopes  whereon  we  have  been 

meditating  to-day !  -  What  a  supggrt  amid 
the  toils ;  what  a  refuge  from  lifefo  storms ! 
What  a  powerful  and  constraining  motive 
to  the  most  magnanimous  sacrifices,  to  the 
most  beneficent  and  God-like  deeds !  Oh, 
that  we  may  ever  hold  fast  to  this  glorious 


30 


hope ;  that  we  may  wholly  surrender  our¬ 
selves  to  its  purifying1  influences;  that  we 
may  abundantly  experience  its  blessed  effi¬ 
cacy;  that  we  may  finally  attain  to  its  en¬ 
rapturing  consummation  / 


